


A Caddyshack Christmas Carol

by Haywire



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Gen, Inspired by A Christmas Carol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:28:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/pseuds/Haywire
Summary: Tallahassee isn't a big fan of Christmas, for good reason, but when his bah humbug attitude affects the rest of the crew some other-worldly intervention is required.
Relationships: Columbus/Wichita (Zombieland)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Caddyshack Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emma_Oz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Oz/gifts).



> For Emma_Oz, I hope you enjoy it!

“Dammit! Will you two just get a room already?” Tallahassee shouted, raising one hand to block his view of a half-naked Columbus on a bed.

He didn’t raise a hand to cover Wichita, who, luckily for her, was standing up and in the process of removing her shirt when they were interrupted. She let both hands fall to her side and exhaled loudly.

“We _are_ in a room, in case you didn’t notice.” She pointed to the front of the dilapidated motel room door, which had a rusted ‘6’ hanging upside down and a faded spot where a ‘9’ used to be.

“I called this room,” Tallahassee said with a pout. “Y’all know I always take room 69, if there’s one.”

“I’m not surprised by that but I was not aware of that rule,” said Columbus. He sat up and pulled his pants up over one leg, then the other. “Wait, I thought you hated rules? I’m the rule guy, right?” He looked to Wichita for confirmation. “Right?”

“There can be more than one person following rules, hon,” Wichita said, patting her boyfriend on the shoulder before rounding on their intruder once again. “Like, I don’t know, giving people some fucking privacy?”

“Whatever, how was I supposed to know?”

“The sock on the door.” Columbus hoisted one plain grey sock aloft, then gestured towards the door. “I totally left one there. Look.”

Tallahassee looked back at the door, which had no visible handle. “There’s no doorknob here, boss.” He grinned and looked at Wichita, thumbing in Columbus’s direction. “Except for the big one on the bed here, am I right?”

She swatted him on the arm, harder than he expected, not that he’d ever reveal that to anyone.

“No, no, look up,” answered Columbus, getting to his feet with just the one sock on and fastening his belt. “On the top of the door.”

All three of them gazed up and saw the other grey sock, hanging limply over the top of the door.

“And how the fuck was I supposed to see that there, exactly?”

“That’s the rule, you put a sock on the door when you’re…” Columbus coughed then bit his lip. “When you’re with a lady friend and you don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Let me guess: you never actually had to do that before, did ya?”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve thought about doing it many times,” he confessed. “I know how to use a sock.”

“Columbus…” Wichita interjected, closing her eyes and putting her hand on her forehead.

“You just make this too easy, pal,” Tallahassee said, bending over in laughter. “I’d say it takes all the fun outta it but I’d be lyin’.”

“Just… just go, okay?” Wichita shoved the taller man. “Why were you even looking for us anyway?”

“Oh wait, I know,” Columbus jumped in, pointing an index finger in the air. “You’ve finally come around, haven’t you, you old son of a gun.”

“Say what now?” asked Tallahassee.

“Christmas. It’s coming in, like, a few days, and you finally want to celebrate it.” He looked down and saw an axe laying against the door frame beside Tallahassee. “See, you wanted us to come cut down a Christmas tree, didn’t you?”

“I was lookin’ for any old furniture I could chop apart for firewood, dumbass,” Tallahassee growled. “As for… for _that_ day, you know damn well I don’t so much as even recognize it, let alone celebrate.”

“Why, what’s so… oh.” Wichita remembered their earlier discovery about his family, and answered her own question.

“So… so you _don’t_ want to get a Christmas tree?” said Columbus.

“Who’s going to get a Christmas tree? I’m in,” came a shout from down the motel hall. Little Rock’s head popped around the corner a moment later and looked around the room.

“Ain’t nobody gettin’ no stupid fucking Christmas tree,” sputtered Tallahassee. Before anyone could say anything different he scooped up the axe, hefted it over his shoulder, and stormed off in the opposite direction.

“Well, technically that’s a double negative, so that means that somebody _is_ getting a - ouch.” Columbus stopped when Wichita struck his shoulder, and unlike the other man he revealed how much it hurt for all to see.

Little Rock turned and watched him march off while her sister and her boyfriend continued to bicker over what just happened.

“I want a frickin’ Christmas tree,” she said under her breath.

-

Tallahassee was only too glad to enjoy the silence of the woods around him.

The motel where they’d been camped out at was in the middle of nowhere, which made it safer than a busy urban area but also lacking in resources. So it’d fallen on him to gather the wood they’d need to keep the fires going. Normally Columbus or Wichita would come with him, but he’d had his fill of them today.

And of Christmas talk too. That was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about at this time of the year, which of course meant it was all he could think about. About his son, and about what he’d lost. Christmas was as dead to him as the rest of the goddamned world was.

He trundled off into deeper snow than usual, ankle deep or more in higher drifts here and there, not caring that he didn’t have any back-up with him. They’d hardly encountered any zombies there, and any that did come after him would get caught in the drifts and be easy picking for him.

He found himself wishing that he’d come across some now, just so he could work out his aggression.

 _Then again, that’s what the trees are for,_ he reminded himself.

Tallahassee’s eyes fell on a huge one just up ahead. That’d do nicely for the amount of rage he had built up inside of him. He gripped the axe handle tightly in both hands and stomped toward his target.

He was so focused on the tree that he didn’t notice the icy patch on the ground in front of him, which blended in with the snowy drifts all around him. When his first foot landed on it, it slipped out and away from him, launching the axe out of Tallahassee’s hands and his body first skyward then earthward, landing directly on his back.

His last thought was where the hell was the axe going to land before everything went black.

-

“Ugh.”

Tallahassee sat up slowly and reached one hand out to explore the back of his head. It was tender and swollen, which matched the throbbing pain emanating from there throughout the rest of his body.

He blinked once, twice, three times before he kept his eyes open and rested on the axe. It had landed right between his legs, blade dug deep into the frozen earth, a few scant inches away from striking him.

“Phew. Close call,” He reached for the axe to steady himself back to his feet, straining to get upright enough to reach it.

Once he was far enough up, his fingers wrapped around nothing but thin air and he fell backwards.

Tallahassee sat up again and reached forward once more, this time with his other hand, only to experience the same result.

The third time he shook his head and moved both hands together slowly for the handle. They both passed through the wood as if nothing was there.

“What in the hell…”

“Oh, you’re not in hell. Not yet, anyway,” came a familiar voice.

Standing against a nearby Douglas fir, leaning on a golf club, Bill Murray towered over his prone form. He pushed off from the tree and took a practice swing with his club, whistling a random tune as he did so.

“Bill Murray? But you’re... “ Tallahassee held his hands in front of his face and frowned. “Does that mean that I’m…”

“Not quite.” He took another swing and then turned back to Tallahassee, leaning on the club once again. “I mean, you’ve probably got a concussion and if you stay laid out there for too much longer you’ll get pneumonia, but you’re not dead yet so you’ve got that goin’ for you, which is nice.”

Tallahassee made his way to his feet as Bill spoke. Once he was fully upright, he looked down and saw his unconscious form spread out on the snow where he’d once been. Another look at his hands confirmed he was, well, _him_ , just a ghostlier version if that made any sense.

Of course when the dead have risen and taken over pretty much the entire planet, he supposed just about anything was possible.

“So… why are you here, then?”

“This may sound a little contrived, I know, but I’m here to warn you.” He leaned in closer and pointed the golf club at Tallahassee. “You have one chance to avoid my fate. You’re going to be visited by three spirits tonight, who -”

“Wait,” Tallahassee interrupted him. “Isn’t this the plot of _A Christmas Carol_?”

“Well, some more culturally adept movie-goers might have said _Scrooged_ instead, but yes, it is.”

“Then how come you’re dressed like your character from _Caddyshack_?”

“Because you haven’t see _Scrooged._ Or any version of _A Christmas Carol._ ” Bill Murray shrugged.

“And what’s so bad about your fate? You were an amazing actor, rich, famous, hell. That’s fantastic,” countered Tallahassee.

“Also dead, don’t forget that part.” Bill sighed. “Look, you’re kinda missing the big picture here, my friend. You’ve got to get over this hatred of Christmas or it’ll come back to haunt you.” He paused. “I mean more than right now, and the three more times coming up.”

“Whatever, let’s just get on with it.” Tallahassee moved to wipe the snow off of his arms before he remembered he was incorporeal for the time being. “And, uh. Sorry about the whole gettin’ you killed stuff, Mr. Murray.”

Bill waved a hand at him as he began to disappear. “Don’t worry about it. In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, ‘au revoir mon frère.”

-

Tallahassee blinked and the ghost of Bill Murray was gone as quick as that. In the next blink everything went black, and after one more he found himself standing in an old abandoned parking lot in the dead of night.

“Where am I now?” he asked the empty night sky.

“I think this was just outside of Texas, not too long after we met.” A ghostly apparition of Columbus appeared across from him, decked out in jeans and a hoodie. His hands were planted firmly inside its pouch and he craned his neck upwards. “Yeah, no, this is the first of many nights where we looked everywhere for a pack of Twinkies.”

“Oh Jesus,” Tallahassee muttered.

“No, it’s… it’s Columbus. Even though I’m not _really_ Columbus, it’s still the same name. You… how hard did you hit your head, actually? That’s a classic concussion symptom. And anyway, I’m _technically_ the Ghost of Christmas Past for all intents and purposes so -”

“Okay, okay, I know it’s you. Shit. If I didn’t I _definitely_ do now.”

Columbus put up his hands and lowered his head in surrender. “Fair enough.”

“My question is, _why_ is it you? What do you have to do with all of this?” He gestured around openly and spun in a slow circle.

“This was Christmas Eve,” Columbus said quietly. “I did a better job of keeping track of the passing days back then, and I absolutely remember this one.”

Before either of them could say anything else, their dopplegangers came into view. Tallahassee lead the way, with the diminutive Columbus in tow.

“There we are now, getting ready to set up camp for the night,” said Columbus. “You’re going to sleep in the back of that car over there while I take watch.”

“How do you remember so much -” Tallahassee started before the other pair started interacting again. Past Columbus reached into his pocket and handed past Tallahassee a small, wrapped package. It seemed to be wrapped in newspaper, though it was a pretty neat job, all things considered.

“I gave you a present,” the ghost version said. “We still hadn’t found any Twinkies yet, but…”

Past Tallahassee ripped the paper open to reveal a package of cupcakes of some sort. There was some discussion between them both before the taller man tossed the cupcakes over his shoulder and walked off to the car. Columbus just stood there and watched him, then looked back at his rejected gift.

“I’d… I’d forgotten about that,” Tallahassee said.

“I mean, they were probably stale, or you might’ve gotten sick, so… yeah.” Ghost Columbus rubbed the back of his neck.

They both turned to face the past Columbus and watch his reaction.

“Merry Christmas, I guess,” said the past version of his friend. He shook his head and then leaned against a nearby vehicle, wiping his face on the back of a sweater sleeve as he stood guard as agreed.

“Wait, you never told me that you cried,” Tallahassee objected.

“Why on earth would I have done that?” asked the ghost. “You’d only have made fun of me, and… and I wasn’t _crying_ , I just had an allergic reaction.”

“To what?”

“To people being jerks,” came the ghost’s clever retort. “Anyway, yeah. Congrats, you crushed just a little bit more of Columbus’s spirit at that time.” He stopped and shook his head back and forth. “I mean, _my_ spirit. _Our_ spirit?” He shrugged and gave up. “Either way, you sucked then, dude.”

“Yeah, well… you got over it, didn’t you?”

“If by ‘got over it’ you mean that I stayed with the much more capable adult in order to survive, then yes, yes I did.” Columbus kicked at a rock on the ground, his ghostly appendage passing right through it. “Still am, I suppose.”

“Right, well, whatever.” He clapped his hands together and turned away from the past scene. “Let’s keep this thing moving then, alright?”

Columbus didn’t say anything in response. He just snapped his fingers, and everything went black again.

-

When Tallahassee next opened his eyes, he was back in the old, run-down motel again.

For a moment he thought he’d been dreaming and that he was still in bed, until he got to his feet and tried to grab a chair in the room. His fingers swam through the air and he knew he was still in the middle of… whatever this was.

“Not a dream, my dude. Sorry.”

He turned to see a ghostly version of Wichita standing in the doorway.

“The Ghost of Christmas Present, I presume?”

“At your service,” she answered.

“Well, maybe you can help explain to me just what the fuck is going on, exactly?” He waved his hand around him. “We’re doin’ just fine, or so I thought we were. What’s so wrong about what we’ve got here?”

Wichita just wagged her finger at him in a come-hither gesture, then ducked outside into the hallway.

He followed her and looked down the hall. “I don’t see -”

Tallahassee stopped when he turned his head and looked the other way. There stood Little Rock, pretty much exactly where he’d left her when he’d stormed off into the woods.

In the adjacent room they could hear the other Wichita and Columbus arguing, but they both focused on Little Rock. She shuffled off toward another room, the one she’d claimed as her own, and slammed the door shut behind her.

They looked at each other and phased through the door at the same time. Little Rock sat at a decrepit desk and opened a drawer, withdrawing a small object from within.

“What’s that?” said Tallahassee.

“Go take a closer look,” prompted Wichita’s ghost. She floated over behind him as he approached the desk and looked over Little Rock’s shoulder.

The object was circular, and not intended to be a Christmas tree ornament, but she’d fashioned a make-shift hook and threaded it through the top of the ball. There was some kind of wrapping around it, and they both leaned in further to see -

It was an old Twinkie wrapper, a pair of them actually, taped together to cover the surface of the sphere. There was some writing on the bottom of it too, Little Rock’s handwriting, but before Tallahassee could make it out she ripped it off and crumpled it up into a ball, tossing it into the corner.

“He’s right, who needs stupid frickin’ Christmas anyway.” She lifted the now naked ornament in one hand, tossed it in the air a little, then flung it hard against the motel wall. It smashed into pieces and made them both cringe, even though they were in no physical danger in their incorporeal forms.

“Jesus,” Tallahassee said after a few seconds. “I had no idea… I mean, she never…”

“She’s been through a shit ton too, you know. We all have.” Ghost Wichita’s eyes lingered on her sister for a moment before pulling away and exiting the room, apparently unable to bear it any more.

“Yeah, but -”

“She looks up to you, so much. So much, dude.” Wichita didn’t let him finish. “And you know it too.”

“I do, and I look after her. I look after all of you. I provide as much as I can, ain’t that enough?” he yelled. “Shit, I’m trying here, I really am.”

“Trying to stay closed off? Yeah, for sure.” Wichita stared straight at him, not backing down. “People need more than the bare necessities to survive, Tallahassee. We need hope, especially someone like Little Rock.”

“There ain’t no hope to be had,” he sputtered out. “There, I went and said it. Are you happy?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she said. “What we’re trying to show you. And it doesn’t sound like it’s getting through.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a stubborn bastard, what can I say?” Tallahassee waved a hand in the air out of frustration. “We’re doin’ just fine, and I’m sorry if y’all don’t think that’s the case.”

“Are we?” she asked.

“We are,” he insisted. “Hell, you don’t even need me. If that’s the case, then you’d be best off without me, probably.” Tallahassee found it hard to convince himself of that, but he continued on anyway. “One less mouth to feed and all. You’d be just fine. Better, even.”

“Would we?” Wichita arched an eyebrow and waited for a response.

He looked back at her and opened his mouth, then stopped. Before he could formulate a better response, ghost Wichita snapped her fingers and everything went black again.

-

When Tallahassee opened his eyes once again it was still black. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the moon, even in his current phantasmic state.

“One more to go, come on,” he said, looking around for the last ghost. He presumed it’d be Little Rock, given how things had gone up to that point, but no one was in sight.

He realized he was in the deep woods, far from where he’d fallen earlier in the day. It was much later and darker, and the motel was nowhere in sight. Tallahassee wasn’t even sure it was the same woods, and if it was, it was far deeper than they’d ever gone before as a group.

“All right, guys, come on out.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out to the void. “I haven’t got all night. I mean, I might, I dunno how this works, but I’m more than ready to get this over with.”

A noise to his left caught Tallahassee’s attention. There, in a thick copse of trees that appeared impossibly black, stood a small shape. It was walking away from him, pushing branches and bushes aside as it made its way deeper into the woods.

The moonlight was the only source of illumination around, and once he drew close enough to the figure, he saw it was Little Rock.

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder when you’d show up.” He sighed. “So, you’re the Ghost of Christmas Future or somethin’, and you want to show me… what?”

She didn’t say anything, instead she stopped pushing trees aside and stood in place, grasping the same branches in her hands.

“Come on, kiddo, just tell me already, would ya?”

She released the branches and let her arms fall to her sides, still facing away from Tallahassee.

“What’s the matter, cat got yer -”

Whipping around, the body that had once been Little Rock opened its gaping maw and roared a deep growl, lunging at him. Her pale grey skin sagged and tore in places, and her eyes were devoid of all life.

“Oh shit,” he said, stumbling backwards and falling onto the ground. He said a quick, silent prayer of gratitude that he was a ghost as she leapt on top of him -

\- and then her teeth tore into his flesh, ripping off a strip and tearing it off in one violent, jagged motion.

Tallahassee screamed and tried to toss her off of him, but she held fast. His eyes bulged as it sank in what was happening. She leaned in again, going for his neck this time, and he pushed her face away with both hands as she drooled and garbled over him.

Before he could try anything else, two more figures shambled into view. A zombified Wichita lumbered towards him on his left, arms outstretched, while an undead Columbus crawled over the snow on his right, inching closer and closer.

“No,” he whispered, strained and exhausted from his wrestling with Little Rock. “Get the fuck off of me!”

It was no use, and in no time Wichita had grabbed one arm, Columbus the other. They gnawed on his limbs while Little Rock, finally free, bent down to his neck and -

-

Tallahassee found himself in his bed at the motel once again, where he woke up screaming. Once he realized he wasn’t being eaten alive he stopped and sat up, panting wildly and sweating profusely.

He licked his lips and then dared to reach out, trying to touch a nearby chair. This time his fingers found purchase and he was relieved to be able to actually touch something again.

Swinging his feet out over the edge of his bed, Tallahassee winced at the pain in the back of his head. Another quick examination revealed that the swelling and pain he’d first felt in the dream had actually carried over to real life as well.

Once he got to his feet, he looked out the motel window. In the front of the abandoned building the other three survivors were playing in the snow. Little Rock was making a snow angel while the Wichita and Columbus were rolling together a snow man. They didn’t appear to be any more zombified than when he’d last seen them, outside the… whatever the hell _that’d_ been, at any rate.

He grabbed his axe, which had been placed back in the corner of his room, and headed outside. He knew what he had to do now.

-

An hour later he joined them outside, rubbing his hands together for warmth as he approached them.

“I’ve got a fire started if y’all want to come get some grub,” he said. The three of them stopped what they were doing and looked at each other, then back at him. “And I, uh. About earlier, I mean…”

“It’s okay,” Columbus started before Wichita hit him. “Ow. You’re doing that a lot lately.”

“I, for one, would like to hear an apology, if there is one forthcoming,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry.” Tallahassee didn’t have much more to add than that. “And I’ll try to be better. It ain’t easy, is all, and, yeah.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Little Rock said after an awkward second or two had passed, throwing her arms around him. He reached down and patted her head, looking over at Wichita to see if she was satisfied.

“Fine by me,” she finally said, leading all four of them back to the motel.

Columbus grinned and put his hand on Tallahassee’s shoulder as they walked, who promptly pushed it right back off.

“Fair enough,” said Columbus.

Once they were inside the motel, all of them but Tallahassee stopped in their tracks. There, in the lobby, stood a large fir tree, partially decorated with whatever Tallahassee could find that would work as a decoration.

“I thought we could finish it together, if you want, that is.”

“Merry Christmas!” Little Rock exclaimed, hugging him again before tugging on her sister’s hand and dragging her along to the tree. Wichita laughed and accompanied her, giving Tallahassee a knowing grin first.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Columbus. “I mean, I’m glad you did, I’m just saying, I could’ve helped. Not so much with the _chopping_ , per se, but -”

“Well, I’ve got a big muscles and I’m good at physical labour, so I’ve got that goin’ for me, which is nice,” Tallahassee quipped.

“What’s that now?”

“Nevermind.”


End file.
